


the breaking light

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Gen, liminal strangeness, maybe a ghost story, maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: In which there's a name on Shinsuke's lantern, and he's not sure if it's a ghost.





	the breaking light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 2: Tic-Tac-Toe | Prompt: [the breaking light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjzBRxOPF0E)  
> [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11976681#cmt11976681)

By the bank of the river, Shinsuke finds a spot in between swaying reeds. When he crouches down, they’re almost as tall as he is; the fireflies scatter at his approach, a sudden burst of light that blooms and disappears behind the trees.   
  
He has come far enough that the bridge is a faint red shadow in the glow of the lanterns, and the chatter from the crowd rises on the warm wind, slips through the cracks of the fading hour as easily as the day that’s come and gone. It is easier to hear in the dark, and to see, too.  
  
With steady hands, Shinsuke sets his own lantern down on the surface of the water and watches it drift away.  
  
“Awful music this year, huh?”  
  
Shinsuke stands, hands in pockets. The shamisen sings a rousing tune that might be just this side of slightly tipsy. “They call it traditional, I believe.”  
  
On the shore across from him, Suga makes a face and wrinkles his nose in the general direction of the festival. Privately, Shinsuke shares his opinion, but he can leave well enough alone when it comes to respecting customs, especially when they have to do with honouring the departed.  
  
“I hope you’ve had a good year, Suga-san,” says Shinsuke, inclining his head in polite greeting.  
  
Suga grins. “Good enough, I guess.”  
  
He’s dressed plainly today. The knees on his jeans are scuffed, and his sneakers are old, their colour an earthy sort of brown where they used to be off-white. He has not changed them since they last met. Shinsuke finds the familiarity comforting.  
  
“I joined the volleyball team! Made some new friends,” Suga continues.  
  
The breeze stirs. Through the pricking on the edges of his mind, Shinsuke nods. "I'm glad to hear that."  
  
“We came to the festival together. I left them somewhere around the _choco banana_ stall. Well, at least I left Daichi and Asahi, I think Shimizu-san’s sensibly gone for watermelon instead…”  
  
Shinsuke spots the small paper bag in Suga’s hand now, as he waves it at him and takes out a chocolate-dipped banana with rainbow sprinkles.  
  
“Wish we could share this,” says Suga lightly.  
  
Shinsuke glances downward, watches the river run. There is a sunset beneath the ripples, breaking, flowing towards the sea.  
  
 _Maybe we will, one day,_ he wants to say. _Maybe I will play volleyball with you. Or against you. I would like that, I think._  
  
But his considerations are a jagged path, and Suga, he knows, will notice, as he notices everything, and so Shinsuke asks instead, “Did you tell your friends where you were going?”  
  
Suga smiles. “I said I had to catch up with someone I hadn’t seen in a while. You look well, Kita-san. I’m glad too.”  
  
“As well as I can be,” says Shinsuke, and Suga’s smile finds its own moonlit reflection on his lips.  
  
They settle into a companionable silence. This is Shinsuke’s favourite part. He feels, for this sacred, mundane, awfully _human_ moment, that he can breathe.  
  
Slowly, slowly, the fireflies emerge from their hiding places. On the other side, they make a little sky of stars around Suga.   
  
As the last of the lanterns floats out of sight, Shinsuke looks up at the darkening night, knows their time is drawing to a close. He takes one more last, long look at Suga and asks him the same question he asks every summer, because there are rituals, and there are things they do not forget.  
  
“Are you a ghost, Suga-san? Or a memory?”  
  
Suga murmurs something, a whisper lost to the water. From this shore, Shinsuke thinks he sees a twinkling spark in the corners of his eyes, right where the laugh lines crinkle.  
  
“What about you, Kita-san?”  
  
The dancing flames light the way home down the river. Suga’s voice is a warm flicker, and if Shinsuke could cup it in his hands, it would feel like that, he thinks, just like one of those candles. Not quite fearless, no—but brave, and bright, so bright—  
  
He opens his mouth to answer. He does not know if Suga hears him.   
  
The distance between them folds, breathes, exhales, and then he is gone, and Shinsuke is alone with the fireflies once more.


End file.
